Isaac. ABRAHAM AND ISAAC. A DRAMATIC SKETCH. FATHER, I faint! The way grows weary up the gloomy mount, And my limbs tremble 'neath their burden! Would, Abraham. Ay! my son! And how thy young hands plucked the cooling leaves To fan my heated brow; and shaped the cup, And brought me, from the softly gurgling wave, By sun and toil engendered, and to lave My hot and dusty brow. - My gentle boy! Isaac. Ah! father! home, Then! home, to that dear plain let us return! Abraham. Have patience yet awhile, my boy! Their tabernacles, bade me hither come, An altar; there to offer up to him A sacrifice a lamb. a cherished lamb ! -I have obeyed! Great God! Thy servant hath obeyed! Thy rest will soon be won! Isaac. Bear up, my boy – My rest, saidst thou, Dear father? - Yes, I see the mountain-top Looming above me in the murky sky; We soon shall reach it! - See, dear father, see And pile the altar. Will the Elohim, |